Friday, December 05, 2008

An oldie for this week's Illustration Friday theme of "balloon".I made this back in the fall/early winter of 2005and, funnily enough, the theme is still pertinent...(And, yes. That is little toddler Pen!)..

When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way,the act of rebirth.You confront completely new situations,the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don't even understandthe language the people speak.So you are like a child just out of the womb.You begin to be more accessible to othersbecause they may be able to help you in difficult situations.And you accept any small favour from the gods with great delight,as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life.At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them,and you feel happy to be alive.That's why a religious pilgrimage has always been one of the most objective ways of achieving insight. The word peccadillo which means 'small sin' comes from pecus, which means 'detective foot', a foot that is incapable of walking a road.The way to correct the peccadillo is always to walk forward,adapting oneself to new situations and receiving in returnall of thousands of blessingsthat life generously offersto those who seek them.- Paulo Coelho

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice -though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do -determined to savethe only life you could save.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

I created this piece this week and then noticed that it fit perfectly with the Illustration Friday theme: wide.It is about my response to my wide open future.Every image in this piece is from a photograph I took in Paris last month.It's a snapshot of my life recently.I am happy to say that if it were a snapshot of now...she would have a foot out of the box!

Friday, May 02, 2008

I had a dream that I stood before the nine hundred and ninety-seven vases of the fallen edens.

I knelt by the first vase and cupped my hands like a spoon. I raised the bitter water to my lips and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I gazed upon all the edens that had fallen in me. I saw edens that I had held in my hands but had let go, I saw promises I did not keep, pains I did not soothe, wounds I did not heal, tears I did not shed, deaths I did not mourn, prayers I did not answer, lovers I left behind, doors I did not open, doors I did not close, and dreams I did not live. I saw all that was offered that I could not accept. I saw the letters I wished for but never received.

Friday, March 21, 2008

When translated from the original language of Jesus, "The Lord's Prayer" is beautiful, and very different from what I had to say in school every morning as a child! I especially appreciate the idea of god as both verb and feminine and masculine.

The Prayer of Jesus in Aramaic

O Birthing! Fathering-Mothering of the Cosmos!

You create all that moves in light.

Focus your light within us - make it useful: as the rays of a beacon show the way.

And while I'm here... yesterday's Caroline Casey radio show was beautiful, also talking about language and religion:http://kpfa.org/archives/index.php?arch=25385This Thursday is the Vernal Equinox, Persian and Afghani New Year, Maundy Thursday, the Eve of Purim, the 5th anniversary of the brutal invasion of Iraq, and.. the Full Moon! a week rife with symbolic and metaphoric guidance. So, more than perfectly, Caroline welcomes back long-time ally, religious scholar and political consultant Pat Ewing, that we may bring informed reverence for life to bear on our personal, collective spiritual and political lives, and cultivateliberating leadership.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Friday, February 15, 2008

Valentine for Ernest Mann

You can't order a poem like you order a taco. Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two" and expect it to be handed back to you on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit. Anyone who says, "Here's my address, write me a poem," deserves something in reply. So I'll tell you a secret instead: poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes, they are sleeping. They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the moment before we wake up. What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife two skunks for a valentine. He couldn't understand why she was crying. "I thought they had such beautiful eyes." And he was serious. He was a serious man who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly just because the world said so. He really liked those skunks. So, he reinvented them as valentines and they became beautiful. At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding in the eyes of the skunks for centuries crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we reinvent whatever our lives give us we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite. And let me know.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

In at the last minute, and badly scanned, my "Tales and Legends" theme for Illustration Friday this week. Inspired by a James Tate poem:

It Happens Like This

I was outside St. Cecelia's Rectorysmoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.It was mostly black and white, with a little reddishbrown here and there. When I started to walk away,it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wonderedwhat the laws were on this kind of thing. There'sa leash law for dogs, but what about goats? Peoplesmiled at me and admired the goat. "It's not my goat,"I explained. "It's the town's goat. I'm just takingmy turn caring for it." "I didn't know we had a goat,"one of them said. "I wonder when my turn is." "Soon,"I said. "Be patient. Your time is coming." The goatstayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It lookedup at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he kneweverything essential about me. We walked on. A police-man on his beat looked us over. "That's a mightyfine goat you got there," he said, stopping to admire."It's the town's goat," I said. "His family goes backthree-hundred years with us," I said, "from the beginning."The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stoppedand looked up at me. "Mind if I pat him?" he asked."Touching this goat will change your life," I said."It's your decision." He thought real hard for a minute,and then stood up and said, "What's his name?" "He'scalled the Prince of Peace," I said. "God! This townis like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there's mysteryand wonder. And I'm just a child playing cops and robbersforever. Please forgive me if I cry." "We forgive you,Officer," I said. "And we understand why you, more thananybody, should never touch the Prince." The goat andI walked on. It was getting dark and we were beginningto wonder where we would spend the night.- James Tate